==== October 12, 2013
==== Donatien Daycen Nathanael
==== Cobbler and candidate exchange greetings, and try to be helpful.

Who Donatien Daycen Nathanael
What Cobbler and candidate exchange greetings, and try to be helpful.
When There are 0 turns, 11 months and 29 days until the 12th pass.
Where Living Caverns

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Living Caverns
Grand and spacious, the cavern curves high aloft in naturally-vaulted ceiling that soothes any sense of claustrophiba. Rich woods line the cavern floor, varnished and stained a rich mahogany, while round tables scatter about candlelit and intimate. The largest table lies southerly next the sideboard, long trestles that seem oriented to providing for the weyr's youngest. The rich blue of Azov can be seen from a distance in good weather, when the heavy stone doors covering the entrance are allowed to stand open.


Mid-morning means some chores are done, and others are on the list. But it's break time! And Daycen needs more fuel. Which is obviously why he is clutcing his mug to him like a lifeline and standing in front of the trestle tables tryng to decide which food will accompany the klah. Obviously a tough decision.

It is indeed breaktime and Donatien comes loping into the Living Caverns like a man on a mission, for food. A large plate is collected, a mug of klah taken, and he dances around an indecisive Candidate with a little chuckle. "Having a little trouble with the wide selection?" he asks.

"Pretty much." Dayce agrees. "Trying to decide how hungry I am, you know? If I'm really hungry I go for something heavy. If I'm not… something light. Because you know that having heavy food if you're going to be doing more heavy chores is just a bad idea, but…" This is the type of agonizing decision-making a nerd goes through. But finally, he sighs with something like resignation and grabs a bowl with some sort of soup in it topped with a hunk of bread. "Been at Southern long?"

Donatien nods agreeably, "A real conundrum." Hefting his plate at the Candidate, Dien says, "My suggestion is a small piece of something heavy and then a lot more light things to go with." Unfortunately, Dien looks to be a lot more jock than nerd, but he can sympathise, and ahhs at Daycen's choice of soup, "A good choice." A lift of the klah mug and, "Not terribly long. Care to keep a new cobbler company?" Without waiting for a response, Dien moves to an unoccupied table. Daycen can come too.

Donatien nods agreeably, "A real conundrum." Hefting his plate at the Candidate, Dien says, "My suggestion is a small piece of something heavy and then a lot more light things to go with." Unfortunately, Dien looks to be a lot more jock than nerd, but he can sympathise, and ahhs at Daycen's choice of soup, "A good choice." A lift of the klah mug and, "Not terribly long. Care to keep a new cobbler company?" Without waiting for a response, Dien moves to an unoccupied table. Daycen can come too.

Daycen shrugs just a little, and juts his chin out towards the tables. "Sure, why not." Where are all of his fellow candidates to be proud of him for being social?? Where are they??? He glances around a second, as if to see whether any of them might be there and then follows the cobbler to the formerly unoccupied table. "Weaver knot. But you specialize in cobbling?" Curious, he gestures with his spoon before digging in.

Donatien will write a letter of recommendation later. Seat taken, Dien takes a large gulp of klah and grins, "That's right. My family was weavers but I was better with boots and leather than with making fancy dresses." There's a nearly scoffing tone to Dien's words, "That's why I get posted to Weyrs as often as I can manage it." He watches the Candi for a moment and then, "Donatien, now of Southern Weyr and Weaver. You?" And then said hungry weaver digs into his own sandwich.

Daycen pauses with a spoonful of soup halfway to his mouth to half-look up at Dien and try to visualize the dude sewing up fancy dresses. His eyes start to cross for a second and he gives his head a quick shake before smirking in agreement. "Yeah, I can see that." he agrees easily enough. "Senior Apprentice Starcrafter. I posted down here to do my Journeyman project. You know, get all the charts for this location done. Make sure the Red Star is following the expected course. And then.." A head tip towards his white shoulder-knot.

Donatien grins, and can imagine what Daycen's imagining, swallowing his mouthful before commenting, "Well met, Senior Apprentice Candidate. I'm sure I'll be seeing you for boots soon enough." The sandwich gets waved again, "And how is Candidacy treating you? The klah here, incidentally, is amazing…" And Dien takes a large swallow of it.

Midmorning and the birds are a chirping their happy song. One little apprentice has arms full of a basket of fish and is making an oh-so-slow way towards the kitchens. The basket is really much too big for the small one, and he totters under the weight, his path less then straight.

"Well met, sir." Klah mug is lifted in return and Dayce chugs some of it. Because as a candidate you learn to scarf the klah like it's going out of style in order to keep up. "We'll see. Truth be told, those eggs are kind of creepy." he admits, brow furrowing suddenly at the site of a wobbling basket with legs. "Scuse me." Holding up a finger to suggest he'll only be a moment, he steps up alongside the little apprentice. "hat things going to crush you. I can take it to the kitchen."

Donatien eyes the teetering basket warily, and then espies the apprentice under it. Nodding to Daycen, Donatien drops the subject of creepy eggs to say, "I'll be waiting." He's got the rest of your soup held captive, of course. "S'that for the kitchen, or for over here?" Is the Weaver still…hungry? A large bite of sandwich is taken. Apparently so.

So focused has the small apprentice been on his task that all other have faded into the background. When the tall man suddenly appears Nathanael loses his grip on one edge of the basket. "Blast!" The curse slips out from the teen's mouth as the top layer of fish slide from the basket to make their slippery away across the floor in many directions. "'m sorry sir! did'n see 'e there!" The basket is carefully put down and Nathanael is diving after the fish who have found new life as their slippery scales make it difficult for them to be picked up.

Well, /that/ will teach Daycen not to be helpful. But it's not the sudden crash that disturbs him apparently. "You'd eat them just like that?" They still have their -heads- on, man!! The candidate looks absolutely horrified at the thought. Blarg. "Sorry kid. I didn't mean to startle you." But rather then try and pick up the slimy bastard fishes with hhis bare hands, he goes to grab a couple hand towels from the kitchens and tosses one at Nathanael while he uses the other to attempt a cleanup.

Donatien is not a marine man at all, but he can appreciate the attempt to keep all your fish in one basket. Once the fish go sliding about, Dien puts down the sandwich and klah and starts to help the attempt to herd the slippery devils to their intended demise. Unfortunately, Dien isn't as quick to kneel down and up again so by the time he's caught a few, most of the mess is probably well taken care of by well-meaning drudges and others. "Here you go, apprentice," he tells Nathanael as his quarrel of fish is added to the basket. All in a day's slightly icky work; Dien wipes his hands on dark pants.

For all the help that he's just tried to be, Daycen winds up calling over a drudge to help the apprentice get his basket of fish safely to the kitchens. "Well, that was fun." he comments, after wiping his hands clean and sitting back down. To try and finish his soup while -not- thinking about eating fish with heads still on them. "I think I'll avoid stepping up alongside people carrying fish baskets from now on."

Normalcy re-established, Donatien bites into his sandwich again and nods thoughtfully at Daycen. And since fish-wrasslin' now puts Dien and Daycen on a first name basis: "What's your name, son?" he asks with the authority of a man who has one or two drifting about. "And what was that you were saying about the eggs, if you don't mind?"

"Daycen. Name's Daycen." A good fish-wrangle always creates friends. "Oh, the eggs. Right." An eyebrow twitches involuntarily when he talks about it. "They take the candidates out onto the sands to touch the eggs, right? It's supposed to make us feel more "comfortable" with things. Or something." He makes air quotes when saying that word comfortable, before playing with the spoon again. "But man. All but one of those eggs sent the creepiest shit ever right into my head. I never expected to see a gigantic fork pierce through my stomach, for one."

Donatien nods, "Well met, Daycen." The process of egg-touching doesn't get a change in expression from the Weaver - he's been around a few, but the news of the eggs' temperament does raise an eyebrow and Dien takes a slow, long sip of klah with his thinking expression on. "We are moving into a time where Thread will be falling," he says, each word seemingly weighed before they leave his lips, "Perhaps they're verifying the nerve of each Candidate; if you don't go back out there, they'd know you wouldn't have the nerve to face Thread." It's a simple reasoning, but Dien huhs, "Though, getting stabbed through the stomach seems a bit extreme…" Huh. And then there's sandwich.

Daycen snorts, right into his mug. "That I'm not the only one who got some real disturbing images lends some credence to your theory." he agrees, actually seeming thoughtful about it. "But really; I plot things on charts. I don't think it would surprise anyone if I wussed out." See, hes obviously thought about it. Just not actually gone through with being a wuss yet. "And I tend to agree. Being pierced through with a giant fork seems rather excessive. A good stab wound with a knife would have gotten the point across just as well." Meh. "So yeah. You gotten a lot of business yet?"

Donatien just raises his eyebrows and sets down his sandwich. "I've met a lot of Candidates in my travels," he starts slowly, "And heard a lot of stories, and a lot of fears." You'd be surprised what people will tell their cobbler. Just like hair-dresses, but more useful. "But I've never heard a dragon say he didn't think a Candidate he Searched wouldn't be a good rider." It's sort of the Searching gig, y'see. As for business, Dien grins and takes up his sandwich again, "Business is good. I got here in good time, for a new set of Weyrlings to get booted in. My apprentices are working hard to keep everyone clothed! Though, I've heard rumours that's not always, ahem, requested or required."

"Ah, but I wans't -searched-." Natch. Dayce holds up the spoon again to emphasize his point. "Asked by a rider, obviously. But there was no dragon involved. Least, not that I know of." is amended, since obviously he wouldn't have heard any dragon talking to his rider. He does offer a brief smile of gratitude for the older man's assurances though. "You mean, not everyone wants shoes? Why?" Yeah, sorry Dien. The nerdcrafter still has those moments where he really doesn't get the point.

Donatien shrugs a shoulder, "You think that where the rider goes, the dragon isn't far behind? Hah, I could tell stories…" And after a moment of reminiscent grin, Dien adds, "But I shouldn't." A little shake of the head and Dien's grin becomes… more sly, "Ohhhh, it's not just shoes they don't always want," and seeing Daycen's confusion, reaches over to gently pat Daycen on the shoulder. "Some people just feel like being really, really free." Anyways, onto new subjects: "Where're you from, before Starcrafting?"

Daycen looks interested at that. "You could tell stories? Because stories are good." he prompts, having no clue at all what he may be getting himself into by doing so. "Not shoes, so that leaves…" Pause. "Oh." He disguises his ever present naivety and embarassment by drowning it in klah. Because clearly, that will work. He barely even registers the shoulder pat. "Me, oh… I was always near the Smithhall. My father's Smithcraft and he stayed at the Hall to teach. I was there right up until I got transferred down here for my project."

Donatien hides a smile behind his klah mug, "Oh, I have plenty of stories, but little time to tell them," so very sad, as Dien's sandwich has vanished now. The realization that dawns on Daycen gets a huge grin, but anyways, "Oh, that must be nice for you, a bit of a basic understanding ad then into your own field." Dien can understand that, but then, "Well, if you don't mind me, Candidate Daycen, I have to be heading back to work."

"It was nice to meet you, Journeyman." Lifting a hand to wave, he stands up and grabs his own dishes to take them to the back for washing even as Dien prepares to leave. "See you 'round!" Because now he realizes he's late for chores and is bolting so he's not late.

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